Lady Silvertongue
by everfaraway
Summary: Partial movieverse & partial bookverse but mostly movie. DustfingerxOC FaridxOC Contains sex, mentions of sexual abuse, rape & child abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Lady Silvertongue

_**Author: I own nothing except Allison. I just wish I owned Dustfinger. **_

_**As always thank you to Mirokou for the assistance, inspiration & spell-**_

_**checking. Also thanks to our new friends who are letting us borrow their **_

_**internet to post our stuff. Mind you I don't think there is such a book as **_

_**Silvertongue & the passage she reads is out of my own mind. Enjoy.**_

Carefully she set down a candle at her desk and moved her copy of _Inkheart_ away from it. Many people said it was the last copy left in the world and many others had offered her large sums of money for it, but she refused. Always she refused their offers and even guarded the precious book with her life. It had appeared in her mailbox many years ago, a book she had never heard of, sent by a mysterious stranger. _Inkheart_ by a man named Fenoglio, in is red leather cover with gold lettering and burgundy endpaper. She had been a bit unsure about it as it whispered promises of fairies, giants, a firebreather and his marten, dangerous men who loved to plunder and terrify. And most of all an immortal monster who lived for nothing more than to cause pain and suffering to others. As soon as she brought herself to read it, she devoured it. It swiftly became one of her favorite books and held a place in her heart for years like very few other books had.

And now many years later, another book, this one by the name of _Silvertongue_. This one was dressed in what looked like blue leather with silver lettering and purple endpaper, but no sign of an author. "If it is anything like _Inkheart, _I must never read aloud from it. I certainly don't want whatever villians this one has to appear in my house." she whispered. She was Allison Wyatt, a young woman like Meggie from _Inkheart,_ a Silver-tongue. But unlike her ink and paper counterpart, she had a degree of control over her power in the fact that she could control what left her world for that of her books. Childhood trauma had awakened her powers when she had accidently pulled the Hound of the Baskervilles from it's book. In exchange, a bottle of shampoo had disappeared from her world into that of Sherlock Holmes.

Carefully, she opened the book and began to read, pleased to see that it picked up where _Inkheart _had left off. She had heard that the original version of _Inkheart_ had a scene where Dustfinger died but her copy, a rather odd copy, did not have that scene. In fact, in her's the firebreather was able to return home to his family. For years, she envied the beautiful Roxanne for having such a man as her husband and father to her children. She had painted a good many pictures of her favorite characters over the years, not just Dustfinger, but Meggie, Mo, Resa, Elinor, Gwin and Farid as well. Slowly, she began to realize something was extremely wrong in the book. _"Dustfinger watched the other young children in his villiage play and thought of his own family. His two children and his wife were dead, taken from him by sickness. Now he didn't even have his companion, Gwin, the semi-tame marten with it's little horns who had slipped away and never returned to him. He lowered his head and let his sandy hair hide his face as tears slid down his cheeks." _"Poor Dustfinger." she whispered then gasped as lightning lit up her window.

A shiver went up her spine as she noticed that her little canary was gone from it's cage in the corner. "Oh, no. No. No." Allison gasped. Sitting on her desk with his head bowed was Dustfinger. She whimpered; she had been so careful over the years to only read aloud when she intended to call someone or something from a book. "Dustfinger?" she whispered. His head jerked up like a wild creature and his eyes locked on her. She stepped back; she had seen eyes like his before on animals and on a small amount of men. Men who always had bad intentions, men like her stepfather.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Allison... Allison Wyatt." she said.

"Where am I?" he snapped.

"My home... I accidently read you from _Silvertongue_." she whispered, stepping back. He growled and cast his eyes around the room quickly as if looking for a way out.

Then his eyes flicked back to her and he hissed, "You're a Silvertongue." She nodded slowly as he approached her like a cat stalking prey. Her heart raced; this was not the Dustfinger she had hoped to meet if she had ever gotten up the courage to read him from _Inkheart_.

"Read me back." Dustfinger growled. The young woman shrank away from him. She was extremely short even for a young woman and slender with short brown hair and green eyes. "Read me back, Silvertongue." he hissed.

"Why would you want to go back.. you're family's gone." she asked softly.

"I know that!" he snapped.

She flinched and said, "I didn't mean to read you out! So don't yell at me!" He chuckled darkly as he glared at her.

"What book did you read me out of?" he growled.

"_Silvertongue._ It just came in the mail this afternoon like my copy of _Inkheart_ did when I was younger." she said. He turned away and looked around the room for the book. It sat on her desk on top of a red leatherbound copy of_ Inkheart_. He grabbed it and went to hurl it into the fire when he felt a pair of arms around his waist. "No! Don't please!" the girl begged. He shoved her roughly away. She whimpered as she hit the floor.

He eyed her then the fire before he tossed the book back onto the desk, careful to miss the candle. Sighing he ran his fingertips through the flame. "Please don't hurt me.. please." Dustfinger looked down at the young woman who was staring at him with wide, glazed eyes. "I didn't do anything.. please." she whimpered. He shivered as he knealt in from of her and touched her cheek.

"I won't hurt you... I didn't mean any harm to you or your books." he whispered. In truth, he hadn't but his temper had gotten the better of him like fire sometimes bit him if he wasn't careful.

She cringed away from him and whispered, "I'm sorry... please. I'll be good." A muscle in his jaw twitched as he realized she wasn't talking to him. Somehow he had shocked her into old memories, very bad ones by the sound of it.

"Silvertongue... Allison." he whispered. Her glazed eyes met his briefly before she cast them to the ground. "Nobody is going to hurt you. Whoever did terrible things to you isn't going to harm you again." he said firmly.

Several minutes later, she rose to her feet shakily. "Are you alright?" Dustfinger asked softly. She slapped him across the cheek, his scarred cheek. He turned away from her to face the fireplace, gingerly touching the trio of scars that Basta gave him so many years ago.

"I'm sorry." she said. He let his hair fall over his face. "Dustfinger.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you." she whispered, touching his arm. He instinctively stiffened under her hand. "Please forgive me. My fear turns into anger and makes me lash out, usually before I manage to restrain myself. It made me read the Hound of the Baskerville out of it's book and sic it on my stepfather when I was fourteen." she admited.

"Was he the one who hurt you?" Dustfinger asked quietly.

"Yes, but not like Basta did to you. He abused me in more than one way." she whispered. His breath caught in his throat; he knew all about men abusing women in the way she spoke of. Capricorn's men had found it highly amusing to force him to watch them when they had first captured him. Even to this day a woman's screams brought back the memories.


	2. Chapter 2

Pain of The Past

_**Author: Again, I only own Allison. I just wish I owned Dustfinger.**_

_**I do however own copies of all the books mentioned, except for **_

_**Inkheart & Slash's biography. Silvertongue is also mine, as far as I know.**_

Allison gently removed her hand from Dustfinger's arm and took a step back. Her hand was warm as if she had been standing beside the fireplace. "You're as warm as fire." she whispered. He blinked twice and looked at her.

"What?" he asked.

"You're as warm as fire. My hand feels like I've been standing by the fireplace." she told him.

He smiled weakly and whispered, "Fire always has been my friend. It's kept me warm on cold nights and been my company when I've been alone."

She nodded understandingly and said, "That's what my books are for me. If I really get lonely I call somebody or something from a book for a while. But I always send them back." He looked sadly down at _Inkheart _and _Silvertongue_ sitting on her desk. "Do you still want me to read you back?" she asked, picking up _Silvertongue_.

"No, I don't think so. I've really got no reason to go back. My wife and children are dead and I've got no other family." he admited.

"My stepfather was killed by the Baskerville Hound when I was a teen, my mother's in jail and my biological father has been dead since I was about six." she whispered. He rubbed his hands together just enough for them to glow and blew into them. "Are you cold?" she asked.

"It's just an old habit." he chuckled. She disappeared to the kitchen as he looked around.

Like the rooms in the other Silvertongue's home and the crazy old woman's home many years ago, there were books everywhere. There were shelves stuffed, boxes full to almost overflowing, crates stacked three high and piles almost everywhere he looked. He stared at several of the piles and shelves until he could decipher the titles and authors. _Night Embrace_ by Sherrilyn Kenyon sat in a pile on top of a copy of _The Return of the King _by J.R.R. Tolkien. A book about a man who called himself Slash sat on a shelf beside _The Prisoner of Azkaban _by J.K. Rowling. "What an odd bunch of books." he muttered, sniffing the air. Slowly he made his way into the kitchen where he found Allison pulling a pair of bowls from a cupboard. "I hope you're hungry. You don't look like you've had a good meal in a while." she told him. His stomach growled softly as she pulled a couple of plates down from another cupboard. Slowly he let his eyes move over her. She was a good bit shorter than he was and very slender. Her dark brown hair didn't even touch her shoulders and her eyes were forest green. She wore a black short sleeve shirt that revealed part of her back when she stretched and sweatpants that didn't quite sit on her hips. He noted the scar on the back of her left shoulder and another on near her right hip. "Sit." she told him, setting the bowls of stew down along with plates of bread.

Later, after they had eaten a very late dinner (Dustfinger had two helpings of stew and three of bread), she guided him upstairs to one of her spare rooms. "I don't usually have much company and the rest of my rooms are taken up by my books. I keep one room open after a couple of different people I read out insisted on staying the night." she told him.

He nodded to the room across from the spare room with the open door and asked, "What's in there?"

"Oh, that's all my art." she whispered, blushing.

"May I?" he muttered. She nodded weakly as he stepped inside. He lifted the first clothe covering and saw a painting that made him laugh. It was Gwin, his marten, sitting on a large ball like some dog in a circus. "He would be insulted." he said, letting the cover drop.

"I found it funny." she said. He lifted several more and found paintings of other characters from _Inkheart_: Farid, Meggie, Resa, Mo and Elinor. She squeaked from the doorway as he lifted the last cover. It was a painting of himself, in nothing but jeans, performing his fire juggling act on a patch of grass in the dark of night.

"Wow." he muttered.

"I was hoping you wouldn't see that." she admited. He turned his dark eyes to her curiously.

"You've been my favorite character for years. I've always wanted to read you out but never... got up the courage to." she admited. His eyes roamed the room to more covered paintings that he wasn't sure if he wanted to look at. "They're all of you." she whispered.

Slowly he walked out of the room and looked down at her. "You, Silvertongue, are a truely unique young woman." he whispered. Allison blushed scarlet as he lifted her chin to make her look at him. Gently he rested his forehead against hers before he slowly kissed her.

"Oh." she gasped softly. Dustfinger's mouth, like his arm and hands, was hot. Her hand ran through his hair and gently traced the scars that Basta had placed there years ago. He flinched and turned his face from her.

"He wanted to make sure I was never seen as handsome in a woman's eyes." he whispered.

"I know the story, very well and he was a fool. But personally I think you're extremely handsome, even with the scars." she told him. Slowly he turned his dark eyes to her as he felt his jeans grow tight. He growled softly before kissing her again, this time not very gently. A few minutes later, they broke apart to breath.

"I can take your pain away... if you'll let me." he whispered.

"You'll make me forget mine and forget yours as well Dustfinger. Start over like none of the pain we've suffered is real." she gasped.

"If that's what you want." he growled.

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Nothing Else Matters

_**Author: Allison is mine only. If you don't like reading smut, dont read.**_

His arm slid around her back and her legs wrapped around his waist as he picked her up. Allison reached back and opened the door to her bedroom blindly. She had eyes for nothing but Dustfinger. He growled softly as he dumped her onto the bed. His hand slid under the hem over her shirt, caressing her stomach while he held his weight on his other arm and knees. One of her hands slid down his chest while the other tangled gently in his hair. "May I?" she whispered, pulling at his shirt. He nodded and sat back as she sat up. In a heartbeat Allison tugged his black sweater over his head. Her fingertips traced the feather shaped necklace he wore. "A gift from the fairies?" she asked. He nodded as he kissed her palm gently. The necklace found it's way to the small bedside table. She smirked and dragged her nails down his chest, making him hiss.

"Lay down... I want to see you... all of you." he panted. She slid back onto the pillows to grant him his wish.

Slowly he slid her shirt up over her head and deposited it on the floor with his sweater. He kissed her neck as he palmed her breasts. They were not quite small enough to fit in his palm but he could care less. Slowly he kissed his way down her abdomen and slid her sweatpants off. There was a scar on her stomach and a lot of smaller ones on her thighs. Dustfinger whimpered and kissed her thighs, wishing he could make the scars disappear the way he played with fire. She groaned as his callaused hands caressed her body as he left her thighs and nuzzled her neck. Gently he rubbed his cheek againest her breasts, drinking in everything about her. She was so soft, so warm and wonderfully trusting. "I don't deserve you. And you didn't deserve anything that bastard did to you." he whispered.

"That's in the past." she told him softly.

"Regardless..." he began.

"Dustfinger, please." she whispered, grabbing his erection through his jeans. He growled as his body throbbed painfully.

"Anything I should know?" she whispered as he rolled off the bed.

"Ignore the scars on my face." he said, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Dustfinger." Allison sighed.

"Don't pull my hair, unless you want me to be rough with you." he added, kicking his jeans off onto the floor. She purred in her throat; he wore nothing under his pants. Slowly, he crawled back up onto the bed and asked, "Anything _**I **_should know?"

"Don't pay any attention to my scars, anywhere. And please... don't hold me down." she told him as he slid her panties off. He nodded slowly as he trailed his fingertips down her body. The dark patch of hair between her legs was glittering in the candle light. "Please, Dustfinger." she panted softly. Her green eyes were glazed with passion and need. Slowly he slid inside of her, being extremely carefully to not hurt or scare her.

When Dustfinger was fully sheathed inside of Allison, he kissed her. "You're so thick and long." she gasped, brushing his hair back.

"You're beautiful. I don't see... how anyone could have ever hurt you." he said.

"Move." she told him, running her nails down his chest. He hissed and obeyed, moving with quick, deep strokes. She yelped sharply when he hit something extremely deep inside her.

"Alli?" he asked.

"Tender." she panted, smiling at the shorting of her name. He nodded and began to thrust again, carefully measuring his strokes to avoid hitting her there again. Her nails dug into his back as fire began to pool in their bodies. Tenderly she licked his throat before she grabbed his hair roughly.

"Damn it... I told you not to... pull my hair." he panted.

"I don't... care." she moaned. His thrusts became quicker and rougher just before her body tightened around his member. He lowered his head into the pillow as stars exploded in his vision.

"Are you alright?" Dustfinger asked, gently slidding out of her. She nodded slowly as he pulled the blankets up over them.

"Allison?" he asked.

"I'm fine." she whispered. He gently kissed her forehead and wrapped an arm around her waist. Allison blinked and looked towards the door. "What's that?" she asked. He rolled over, listening to the scratching sound.

"Hold on." he said, getting up to open the door. A slender furry figure ran in and stood on it's hindlegs, looking at him.

"Is that Gwin?" she laughed.

"Yeah, this is Gwin." he said. The marten chittered up at him as if to yell at him.

"What's he saying?" she asked.

"He's not happy that I found a woman without him around. He's a bit of a lady's marten." he chuckled, climbing back into the bed. Gwin screeched up at them. "Well come on, there's room up here for you somewhere." Dustfinger said. The black and white marten chittered softly as he climbed up the footboard and scampered across the sheets.

"If he makes a mess on the bed, he's going in the rabbit cage in the laundry room." Allison threatened. Gwin hissed softly.

"You heard her. You take care of your business, bathing and eating outside." the firebreather said. The marten chittered again sharply. "Shut up." Dustfinger said, shoving him under a pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

Farid... And Cass

_**Author: Cass belongs to Mirokou & Allison is mine. We just wish we**_

_**owned Farid & Dustfinger. The passage at the end that Allison rattles**_

_**off is actually out of Inkheart, which belongs to Cornelia Funke.**_

Gwin was on the bed chittering in Dustfinger's ear. It was his job to inform his human of intruders and the human's job to deal with them. What could he really do against hostile humans anyway? He was only a marten after all. Dustfinger came awake and started to scold him. Gwin continued to chitter urgently and the blonde human finally got up and followed him to the back door.

Dustfinger was not happy. He had been asleep with Allison after getting laid earlier in the night when Gwin came chittering in his ear. All he caught in his half awake state was something about the other firebreathing human in the backyard. The marten had been threatened with the rabbit cage in the laundry room if it was a false alarm. Opening the door, dressed in just his pants and trenchcoat, he stepped out onto the porch. "Gwin! Dustfinger!" a heavily accented voice shouted.

The marten stood on his hindlegs and chittered at him as if to say, "See! Not a false alarm!" Farid scooped up Gwin and ran up to the blonde.

"The Silvertongue and her family taught me to read. The crazy old lady lets me practice Dragon's Breath in her yard. Maybe later I show you." the Arabian said, talking quickly in his excitement.

Dustfinger narrowed his eyes and growled, "No."

"You're in a bad mood."

"I was asleep when Gwin woke me up." he muttered.

"I'm sorry, I did not know you or Gwin were here. I would have let myself in..." he apologized.

"Just get in the house." he snarled.

"You're mean." Farid told him. He narrowed his eyes angerily.

"Dustfinger, who is this?" Allison stood in doorway of the kitchen, wrapped up in a dark blue fleece robe.

"Farid, the Silvertongue Mo read him out of Arabian Nights." he muttered.

"Hello." the Arabian said.

"You do realize that Arabian Nights is alot of stories? Which one did he come out of?" she asked.

"Ali Baba." he told her.

"Put him in the spare room. Then come back to bed." she told him. A soft growl began in Dustfinger's throat as he guided the boy to the only open room.

"She's very pretty." Farid said. The firebreather narrowed his eyes and smacked him upside the head.

The next morning, Farid was kept busy doing chores elsewhere while Allison made breakfast in the kitchen. Dustfinger hovered and Gwin ran back and forth between Farid and the other two. A knock at the front door brought Farid from the living room were he had been dusting. "Yes?" he said opening the door.

"Hi, can you tell Allison that Cass is home?" the young woman said as she stepped inside.

"Uh... ok." Farid turned and retreated to the kitchen door. "A girl calling herself Cass said to tell you she's home, Miss Allison," he informed her.

"Cassie!" Allison shouted, grabbing the timer and running into the hall.

"Hey, Alli. Who's visiting this time?" Cass asked, setting most of her bags in the library.

"I read Dustfinger out on accident and Gwin and Farid showed up on their own," the Silvertongue replied. The other girl smiled.

"Good for you, sis. I know you've been trying to get up the courage to read Dustfinger out for several years now. Even if it was an accident, I'm glad it worked out."

"Sis?" the two men asked.

"Cass is my adopted sister. Her family took me in after everything..." Allison explained, her voice trailing off.

"I'm Cassandra Wiese, it's nice to meet you both," the girl smiled.

Dustfinger looked down at the other woman as she examined him. "He's taller than I thought he'd be Alli. What did the book say about him again?" Cass said.

"At which point? When he appears during the rainstorm in chapter one or when he's waiting for Mo and Meggie by the road in chapter three?" Allison asked, checking the timer in her hand.

"Chapter one." Cass said.

_"Dustfinger pushed his dripping hair back from his forehead. It reached almost to his shoulders. Meggie wondered what color it was when it was dry. The stubble around his narrow-lipped mouth was gingery, like the fur of the stray cat Meggie sometime fed with a saucer of milk outside the door. Ginger hair sprouted on his cheeks, too, sparse as a boy's first beard but not long enough to hide three long, pale scars." _she said.

"Do you have the whole book memorized?" Cass teased.

"Not yet. You'll stay up for breakfast won't you." Allison laughed, going into the kitchen to rescue what was in the oven.

"Sure, but then I'm going to sleep." Cass said.


End file.
